a dark road
by ShadowsOnTheMoon
Summary: And Spencer was becoming someone she didn't even recognize, everything she had always sworn she would never be. [A Spencer-centric, addiction-themed three-shot.]
1. towards despair

**I'm going to keep this short. This will be a two or possibly three shot, picking up roughly from sometime after 4x19. It's Spencer-centric, basically revolving around her whole drug storyline thing. I don't know when I'll have the next part up, because my inner muse is currently on vacation, but I'll do my best to have it up within a week. I live on a steady diet of carrots, chickpeas, and reviews, so if you like this and want to read more, please leave me a review. It'll only take a second and I will be eternally grateful. So here's the first part, enjoy, review, see you next time. You guys know the drill. (Oh, and the lyrics at the start are from the song Dark Road by Annie Lennox, so I claim no credit there.)**

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_maybe i'm still searching but i don't know what it means  
all the fires of destruction are still burning in my dreams  
there's no water that can wash away this longing to come clean_

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It was inevitable, and yet nobody saw it coming.

At first it had just been a way to focus, a little something now and then to help her stay awake. Then it became a habit, a safety blanket so that she could get through each day, each night, each torturous moment. Gradually she began taking more and more of the pills, in the school bathroom in between classes, in her room at home, even one time with her friends when nobody was looking. And then, suddenly, it wasn't enough. God, it wasn't enough. She needed more.

It was a familiar pattern for some, and all she had to do was listen. She never even had to ask the questions, because the answers were brighter than the sun that she had grown used to seeing rise over the horizon after yet another sleepless night. She found out who to go to, what they had to offer. She would take whatever she could get her hands on, whatever would help her stay up or stay sharp or stay sane (if she could even call it that anymore). The only people who knew about her spiral were the people whose 'study aid' she so feverishly purchased every other day, and since they were making money from the transactions they were disinclined to worry about Spencer's wellbeing. That was her own problem.

It was risky behavior, and that was part of the appeal. One of her suppliers picked up on the change, noticing when Spencer started caring less about which pills to take in order to get her homework done and more on what she needed to numb the pain, to block out her racing raging thoughts. Taking advantage of this, she approached her. The exchange was brief and detached, and Spencer knew that should worry her. But it didn't, not yet.

_"Do you want to try something new?" Seductively._

_"What is it? What does it do?" Warily._

_"Don't you trust me?" Daring._

_"Okay. Give it to me." Impulsive._

So she took what was offered, and she learned not to ask what it was. Sometimes she even got them for free, not as charity but as a reward for being such a loyal consumer. Most of the time she didn't even know what she was taking, and what little uneasiness she initially had faded away as she grew more dependent on them, on the highs they gave her and the lows they blocked out. She was running on less than empty, and it was a wonder her friends hadn't noticed.

This was so far from the person she was supposed to be, so different from the way she had pictured things. She was strung-out, spread thin, barely able to sit for five minutes without twitching. But she was unravelling the mystery, getting closer to finding out who was behind all this, and that was what was important. A few sleepless nights, a few missed tests, it didn't matter. She had her goal in sight, and she wasn't to be deterred.

Every once in a while she would crash. It would come suddenly, after a couple of days or even a week. She would be okay, and then she wasn't. Sometimes she'd miss a day or two of school, just sleep off the effects of whatever she'd taken, catching up on the rest that she kept trying to tell herself that she didn't need. Her friends would come to visit, worried because she wasn't answering her phone. It was getting harder to come up with lies to explain her absence, her behavior, her appearance. Her pale, washed-out skin; her bug-eyed expression; her fidgeting and stuttering. Her friends were starting to notice.

_"I stayed up all night studying for a test. I'll be fine tomorrow."_

_"Melissa came back from London with some exotic flu. I'll be okay by tomorrow."_

_"It's just a cold, nothing major. I promise I'll be fine by tomorrow."_

Her friends wanted to believe her, but they were finding it more difficult. Her lies were becoming transparent, her friends more suspicious. And Spencer was becoming someone she didn't even recognize, everything she had always sworn she would never be. She was losing it, and she refused to let anyone help. She would be the first to admit (silently, of course) she had a problem, and the last to accept help for it. She was Spencer Hastings, and she was going to fix this on her own.

She couldn't remember a day that had gone by in the last month when she hadn't taken something. Some days were worse than others; alcohol mixed with pills, skipped meals, frantic studying late into the night. Her room was chaotic, and for the first time in her life she didn't care. She was aware that she wasn't thinking clearly, that her thoughts were jumbled, that she was connecting dots that nobody else could see.

Even if she hadn't been aware of just how manic she was, the few short conversations she had with her friends would have been enough to bring attention to it. They saw she was falling apart, and they called her out on it, and she shied away from them. She spoke quickly these days, her words tripping over each other, and her friends would have to wade through the chaos of her sentences in order to divine some kind of meaning. Some days they didn't even try, just shared a weary look and then smiled at her patiently, not even trying to understand the car crash going on in her head.

Despite how bad every day was, there was one night that stood out, the worst of the worst. She'd opened her eyes and found herself in a black-and-white world, simultaneously glamorous and terrifying, and she'd drifted through the new world, trying to expose its secrets and find the answers she needed. But then she'd _really_ opened her eyes, and she was still standing in her kitchen, the pill bottle in her hand and an old movie on the television.

The scariest thing was, sometimes she wasn't even sure which world was real.

_"The world looked better in black and white."_

_"Spencer, what are you talking about?"_

_"Nothing. Just a dream I had."_

Some part of her was convinced that her waking hours were her dreams. Nothing felt real anymore, nothing felt true. She couldn't trust her own senses; couldn't believe in the things she saw and heard and felt and touched. Even when she held something in her hands, she was still half-convinced that the tactile sensations were products of her delusional mind, and any moment she'd wake up in a big white room with no doors or windows.

Her parents were never home, and even when they were she was hardly aware of them. She was drifting through life, stuck in her own mind, and the strength she would need to get out of the traps she had set for herself was too much. So she fell into a routine, because fading away was easier than holding on. She just had to solve this mystery, she just had to finish the puzzle, and then she could rest. She didn't like to think of what would be left of her then.

Her descent continued unmitigated, unrestrained, until one stormy night when her demons came out to play.

And her friend came over to save her life.

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**Any guesses as to who this friend is? For those of you who know me, it shouldn't be too hard to figure it out, but have a go anyway. So that's it, please don't forget to review, and I hope I've intrigued you enough to see you next chapter.**


	2. dead of night

**Thanks for the reviews last chapter, everyone! You guys are the best. This was intended as a one-shot but will now be three chapters, since it got away from me a little bit. Hope you don't mind. So here's the next chapter, enjoy, review, and I'll have the final one up soon. Thanks!**

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It was Saturday night, and Spencer had officially lost it.

That morning she'd woken up after seven and rushed her morning routine to make up for lost time. She'd shoved on her left shoe while hurrying down the path to her car, using her other hand to run a comb through her hair. She'd been halfway to school before she realized it was a Saturday, and then she'd pulled over to the side of the road and sat in her car for ten minutes trying to work out what to do from there.

She'd ended up at the Brew, her old familiar haunt, but it felt strangely empty without her friends there. The waitress gave her a strange look, a pitying look that made Spencer want to slap it right off her face. Couldn't the woman tell that she was on the edge of a breakthrough? That she was on the trail of a killer? That her friends' lives were at stake and she was the only one who could save them?

No. She just saw a girl with a flushed face and wild eyes, her hands shaking as she sipped her fourth cup of coffee.

Three hours and six cups of coffee later, Spencer left the Brew. For a month now she'd only been drinking herbal tea, convinced that the combined effects of the pills and caffeine would be enough to send her off the edge of a precipice she'd been teetering on for weeks. She could still dimly recall jokes her friends used to make, about her bleeding caffeine and breathing in coffee, but they didn't seem amusing now. It wasn't as comforting as it used to be; everything familiar felt smothering, and everything new felt dangerous.

Despite the coffee, Spencer passed out almost as soon as she made it to her room. Her dreams were confused, jumbles of sounds and colors, and she woke in a cold sweat just as night was falling. She sat up slowly, wiping her forehead with the back of her hand. Her breathing was shallow and she felt like her heart was about to snap, just suddenly split in half and leave her empty.

Instinctively she reached for her bag, searching through it until her fumbling fingers closed around a small plastic bottle. She twisted the cap off and quickly swallowed two of the pills, dry. The feeling made her retch, but she couldn't bring herself to stand up, to walk the ten steps over to her desk to get a bottle of water.

As soon as the unpleasant taste in her mouth faded she flopped back against the pillows, closing her eyes and waiting to feel the effects. It didn't take long, and soon she was making her way back downstairs, ready to tackle the problem once again.

Half an hour later she was still sitting in the kitchen, the counter spread with piles of paper and photographs, her hands frantically flicking through pages of her own handwritten notes (because, after all, she couldn't trust anyone else's). There was a connection, she knew it, there had to be.

Because if she was wrong about this, then she was just some crazy girl with a drug problem.

But if she was right, she was the girl who was going to save her friends, who was finally going to stop A. If she was right, she was going to be a hero. That thought was what sustained her through another hour of research, and then another. They piled up so that she lost track of the time, but it didn't matter. She wasn't sleeping anyway.

It was just before midnight when a knock at the door startled her so much that she dropped the piece of paper she was holding. She snatched it up, glared at the door, and refused to acknowledge whoever had interrupted her. Whatever they wanted, whatever they had to say, it could wait.

There was another tentative knock, and then a creaking sound. Spencer glanced up as the door swung open, and, seeing who it was, turned her attention back to the chaos in front of her. She didn't look up at the sound of footsteps, or a soft greeting, or even the feel of someone's hand on her shoulder – although the latter did make her flinch, ever so slightly. How long had it been since someone had been this close to her?

"Spencer."

Pause.

"Spence. Please. Look at me."

Pause.

Then, slowly, Spencer looked up. She was holding her pen tightly, like it was a lifeline, and her grip tightened as she saw the overwhelming sadness in Aria's eyes. She looked away again. Emotion had no place here; she needed to work.

"What do you want, Aria?" she asked tiredly.

The hand withdrew from her shoulder, and she sensed Aria pulling up one of the stools and sitting down beside her. This put Spencer on alert immediately; that meant she was planning on staying. She couldn't. Spencer couldn't let Aria see what she was working on.

As surreptitiously as possible, Spencer started gathering up the paper and photos, making sure Aria couldn't catch a glimpse of anything that would link Ezra in with all of this. She couldn't tell her until she was sure, and she didn't know if she would ever _be_ sure. When she'd cleared up all her research, Aria hadn't moved, hadn't said anything, had hardly even breathed.

"I'm worried about you," Aria admitted quietly once Spencer had packed everything up.

"I'm fine," Spencer said automatically. She glanced up and away again, twirling the pen between her fingers, the most immediate outlet for her anxiety she could find.

Aria watched the pen, then her eyes flicked up to Spencer's face. Spencer didn't look at her, but she could sense worry coming off the other girl in waves. For a while she'd been convinced she'd be able to keep this to herself, that she'd be able to pull herself out of her spiral before anyone even knew she'd started to fall, but some part of her had always known that was never an option.

"You're not fine." Aria's voice was firm but gentle, and after only a brief hesitation she reached out and rested her hand on Spencer's. She took the pen out of Spencer's hand and lay it down on the counter. "Emily, Hanna, me – we've all been worried about you. We want to help, but you're not letting us in."

After a beat, Spencer purposefully picked up the pen and started twirling it again. A flash of annoyance passed across Aria's face, but it was gone before Spencer could be sure. "I don't know what you're so worried about," Spencer said. "I've just been busy lately, is all."

The clock on the wall kept ticking, rain started to fall outside, and yet somehow the silence was too much. "How long has it been since you've slept?"

Spencer ran a hand through her hair, scanning the page in front of her. It was one she'd read at least fifteen times before, a page of notes she'd made from Ali's notebook, but she hoped that if she looked busy enough Aria would leave her alone. "I slept today," she said finally, when it became clear that Aria was still waiting for an answer. "I had a nap after I went to the Brew."

Aria let this sink in, and then asked, "And before that?"

Spencer didn't respond. She'd slept for an hour or so last night, but it hadn't done any good. She was still jittery, but also half-asleep; it was an uncomfortable feeling, being torn between anxiety and depression, but she'd become used to it lately. She knew there was no way she'd be able to explain it to her friends, so she didn't even try. She let the silence stretch on.

"Please." There was a new note of desperation in Aria's voice, enough to strike Spencer's heart; but not enough to prompt a response. "Spencer, you can't keep going on like this. It's not healthy. What exactly are you trying to do?"

"I'm trying to save your life," Spencer said tersely, and it took a second for her to realize she'd said it aloud.

"You're… what?" It was barely more than a whisper, but it was enough to make Spencer's heart stop for half a second.

Realizing her mistake, Spencer kept her mouth shut.

"We all want to find out who A is," Aria said carefully, thoughtfully, "but what you're doing… it's not the way to do it. You're pushing us away, and you're…"

Her words trailed away, but Spencer followed her gaze. An empty pill bottle by the sink, cold hard evidence of a spiral she'd been trying to deny, a decline she had once tried to stop. Now all she could do was hope that she'd come out the other side in one piece. Or that at the very least she'd be able to take A down with her.

"Spencer," Aria said, waiting until her friend looked at her before she continued, "you're not okay. You think we don't notice, but we do. And we want to help you get through this."

"You can't help," Spencer shot back, surprised at the venom in her own tone. It was a defense mechanism, she knew; Aria was cornering her, and, feeling trapped, Spencer lashed out. She hated it, but she was too wired to think, too tired to filter her words.

"What makes you so sure?" Aria leaned forward, her elbows on the table and her head in her hands. With a sideways glance at Spencer, she said, "A problem shared is a problem halved."

"Look." Spencer stood up so suddenly she actually felt dizzy. "I know you want to help, and I get that. But there's nothing you can do. So just drop it."

Without waiting for a response she grabbed her research, bundling it in both arms, and hurried up the stairs. She dumped it on her bed, then turned around to close the door. To her surprise, Aria stood in the doorway, her arms folded and her expression stern. How had she gotten up here so quickly? And why was she still here?

Squaring her shoulders, Aria looked into Spencer's eyes; a challenge. "I'm not leaving until you tell me what's going on, so you may as well start talking."

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**Well, most of you picked the fact that it was going to be Aria, because, come on, how could I pass up the chance for some Sparia?**

**But the question is: will Aria be able to get through to Spencer?**

**Sound off in the reviews, and I'll see you all next time.**


	3. words are all we have

**Writing this hurt my heart. My poor Sparia babies. Okay. Thanks for all the reviews last chapter (not as many as chapter one, but I'll take what I can get and be happy for it). So here is the conclusion (if you can call it that) to my spur-of-the-moment Spencer-centric three-shot. Enjoy, review away, and I hope to see some of you guys in my other stories.**

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It was time to tell the truth, but all that came to mind were lies.

Spencer leaned against the door, chewing on her thumbnail, trying to keep herself grounded. If she just closed her eyes she could be somewhere else, in another time and place, and she wouldn't have to have this conversation. But Aria wouldn't leave, and when Spencer came back she would still be here. Still looking at her with that doe-eyed expression, still demanding an explanation for Spencer's descent.

"There's nothing to say," Spencer said at last, which was a complete lie. There was so much to say; she just didn't know if she'd be able to string her words together into some kind of coherent sentence. She could hardly understand her own thoughts, so how could she expect anyone else to? Even Aria, who could normally gauge her mood just from a look.

"That's not true." Aria marched into the room, all but slamming the door behind her. Then she faced Spencer again, arms folded, eyes narrowed, the perfect mix of stern and concerned. "You haven't really spoken to any of us in weeks. I hardly even know who you are anymore."

_Maybe it's better that way._

"There's just a lot going on," Spencer said, hoping vagueness would be a passable defense.

It wasn't. "There's been a lot going on for years, now, Spence. But we used to be able to talk to each other about things like this."

"Things like what? What do you think is going on here?" Spencer held Aria's gaze for as long as she could, but agitation took over after a few seconds and her eyes started darting around the place. God, it was hard to focus.

"I don't know!" Aria burst out. Sensing that her emotional outburst wasn't going to help, she lowered her voice and added, "And that's what scares me."

"_I'm_ scaring you?" Spencer said with an incredulous laugh. "Wake up, Aria. There's more to be scared of than me taking a couple of pills now and then. Like, for example, the _monster_ who's been tormenting us for years. Does the name 'A' ring a bell at all?"

Aria bristled. "I haven't forgotten about A," she said stiffly. "But right now the thought of whatever that creep is doing is nowhere near as terrifying as what _you're_ doing."

"What am I doing, then?" Spencer snapped. She didn't want to have this fight, she was too tired, too stressed, but maybe if she kept Aria at a distance she'd be able to keep her safe. If Aria would just leave, she could get back to her research. She could solve this. She could save everyone.

"Staying up all night," Aria said. "Skipping classes. Declining every invitation to hang out with us. Hiding away up in your room with nothing but pills and alcohol for company. Do you get how bad this looks? Do you even understand why we're worried about you?"

"Of course I understand! I just think you have your priorities wrong."

"Oh," Aria said, her voice hard. "So saving my best friend should rank under, what, helping my dad with the bake sale? Making sure Mike gets his homework done? Going shopping?"

Spencer bit back a sharp retort, looking at her friend. Aria was actually shaking, close to tears, and god, Spencer wanted to hold her. She wanted to explain and apologize and make this all right, but she couldn't. She'd set her feet on this path a long time ago, and she needed to see it through. "You don't need to save me," Spencer said finally. _In fact, I'm trying to save you._

"Clearly I do." Aria's gaze drifted around the room, which was in disarray, the likes of which had never been seen in the Hastings household.

"So my room's a little messy," Spencer said, making no move to clean it up. "It's not the end of the world."

"No," Aria said carefully. "It's just not like you."

"People change."

The words hung in the air between them, a reminder, a barrier. For a long moment neither of them spoke. Then Aria sank down onto the bed, breaking the spell of silence and stillness. "I just don't understand why you won't let us help you," she said at last.

"Because there's nothing you can do." Spencer was fidgeting again, running her hands up and down her arms, shifting from one foot to the other. She knew it looked bad – hell, she _felt_ bad – but she couldn't stop. She'd come too far. She had to finish this. There was no other choice.

"Of course there's nothing we can do if you won't even tell us what's wrong," Aria said quickly, as if she was worried the words might make Spencer lash out.

"There's nothing _wrong_," Spencer said sharply, causing Aria to wince. In other circumstances Spencer would temper her harshness with a kind word, a friendly smile, even just a look, but she couldn't risk it. She just needed Aria to leave, and then she could get back to figuring this all out.

Those three words were enough to cause Aria to get to her feet, trembling now not with fear but with anger. "Something is _very_ wrong," she said. "What you're doing – it's not good for you. It's dangerous, Spence, and pushing us away isn't going to help."

"I don't care," Spencer said, her voice rising in pitch and volume. They were both agitated now, flinging their words back and forth, and neither of them wanted to back down. "Do you get that? I don't care how dangerous this is, because it's helping. Which is more than I can say for you."

This was a low blow, and they both knew it. But it didn't stop Aria's lower lip from trembling, which she tried to hide by turning away and pretending to examine a necklace strewn haphazardly on Spencer's desk. When she turned back around her eyes were burning. "I can't even believe you're saying all this," Aria said. "It's like you don't even care about me, about any of us. But that's not going to stop_ us _from caring about _you_."

"I wish it would, because then you would finally leave me alone." As soon as she said the words, Spencer wished she could take them back. But it was too late; the damage was done.

"I'm not going to leave you alone when you're like this," Aria countered quickly, her voice shivering with fear and anger. "Don't you _realize_ how dangerous this is? Are you _trying_ to kill yourself?"

The silence that followed was enough to break both their hearts.

"Oh my god." Aria sank back onto the bed, staring at her friend in horror. "Spencer, is that what this is about? Do you _want_ to die?"

"No," Spencer said, too quickly to let herself actually consider the question. "I'm not… I don't…"

"Spencer." Aria looked up at her, tears spilling down her cheeks. "I don't want to lose you. I don't know what I would do without you."

Spencer wanted to hug her, but she couldn't. She knew the argument was coming to an end, and she just needed to speed up the process. "I know," she said shortly, ignoring the shock that clouded Aria's eyes. "But it's not your choice, is it?"

"Spencer -"

"Get out. I have work to do."

Aria stared at her, mouth slightly open, tears still trickling down her cheeks. "Spence -"

"I mean it, Aria. Get out of my house."

Before Aria could respond, Spencer walked over, grabbed her arm, and led her forcefully across the room. She pushed her out into the hall, ignoring the other girl's protests.

"Spence, please, I just want to help -"

"You can't save me," Spencer spat, slamming the door in her face. She waited until she heard the sound of footsteps fading, and then she exhaled slowly. Leaning her forehead wearily against the door, she said aloud the words she couldn't bring herself to tell her best friend. "But please don't stop trying."

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_i can't find the joy within my soul  
it's just sadness taking hold  
i wanna come in from the cold  
and make myself renewed again_

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**That's all, folks. If you need me, you'll be able to find me huddled in a corner anxiously awaiting the next episode, and inevitably collapsing on my bed in a puddle of feels shortly thereafter. Don't forget to review. Love you all!**


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